Crown Of Stars - Child Of Flame Part 46

They all agreed then, one by one, that Ardaneka's chief had been furtive and tricky, eager for gold and silver but reluctant to place his people in the front lines where they might take the brunt of an a.s.sault. His seamanship hadn't been anything to boast of, either, and he had only raided where the pickings were easily gained, not where he might meet real resistance.

"He was weak," said Stronghand at last, "and he was not loyal." He regarded his captains calmly, baring his teeth in a grin meant to provoke the irresolute among them." That storm was only the first magic that the tree sorcerers will cast at us. But I do not fear them. Do you?"

None stirred. None dared show weakness, or hesitation, now that they had seen what the magic of the tree sorcerers had wrought.

Perhaps the tree sorcerers were in fact capable of raising a storm that great, although he doubted it. He did not doubt the danger the Alban wizards posed to those unprepared to meet them, but he had seen for himself that their magic did not reach far beyond their physical bodies: a shrouding fog, a temporary storm front blasting through a line of ships drawn up for battle, a mist to dazzle the minds of men swayed by their power and guile. The gale that had scattered his fleet had encompa.s.sed a vast swath of the northern sea, according to his own observations as his ship had ridden out the gale and to the reports he had received as his loyal captains had straggled in to the Crackling Skerries afterward.

Perhaps the tree sorcerers had called up that storm, seeing his fleet poised at their sh.o.r.e. But whether it was born out of the sea or out of their magic, he knew just how to make use of such opportunities, blown to him on the wind.

That was why he had told the merfolk, in the aftermath of the^ storm, to hunt down Ardaneka's ships and destroy them, each one. To bring him the chieftain's body, drowned and broken.

Let the capricious ones fear that they might be next to suffer under magic's cold claw.

Below, the red-and-yellow ship listed to one side. Seawater swamped the deck, and with a sucking sigh the ship sank under the waves, ropes slithering down until, at last, nothing could be seen except sc.r.a.ps of flotsam, bobbing on the swells. Waves battered the bloated corpse. One of the arms came loose, rotted away at the shoulder, and it rolled away like a lifeless slug. A ripple stirred its steady course; a ridged back sounded. Eels writhed, mouths snapping in eyeless faces, as one of the merfolk raised its gruesome head and, that fast, s.n.a.t.c.hed the decaying arm. Limb and merman vanished beneath the gray-blue sea.

The headland emerged from a low-lying mist. Chalk cliffs gleamed invitingly where the sun lit them. Clouds scudded away northwards. Gulls screamed.

Stronghand raised his standard once more. The haft hummed against his palm as though a hive of bees lived within, but it was only the voice of the magic, always aware, always alert. Always awake.

The magic that protected him never slept, and never dreamed.

"Summer wanes," he said softly, making his commanders strain to hear him above the pound of the surging sea against the rocks and constant blowing rumble of the wind." Alba waits. And they can do nothing to stop us."

IT all happened so fast: Henry's and Adelheid's triumphant entrance into Darre, Adelheid's labor pangs and her delivery of a healthy daughter in the presence of a dozen witnesses on the sixteenth day of Cintre, a mere twenty days after their arrival. The CHILD or FLAME queen was too exhausted to be moved; the rigors of the mountain crossing in the fullest months of her pregnancy had worn her down. Henry could not wait, nor did Adelheid counsel him to tarry in the palace while she recovered.

So it was that a month later Rosvita found herself once again at the head of a triumphal procession riding into Darre. King Henry had made a brief progress through the northern counties and dukedoms of Aosta, restoring daughters and sons that Ironhead had held hostage and allowing the ladies and lords to feed and house his impressive army. Every gate opened to admit him, although it was by no means clear that every count, lord, and duke was overjoyed at the prospect of Queen Adelheid restored to her throne at the hand of the Wendish king. But the northern lords did not want to fight.

"As long as they don't want to fight this year, then we can hope for peace while Henry establishes his power in the south," said Villam as they halted an arrow's shot from the ma.s.sive gates of Darre.

The magnificence of Darre still awed her. The city was built on five hills, with the two palaces-representing spiritual and temporal power-sitting at the height of Amurrine Hill. The city walls remained more-or-less intact from the time of the old empire, repaired and rebuilt over the course of the four hundred years since the last empress had died defending her throne from the invading Bwr horde. The Bwr army had left the walls intact and razed the temples instead, to show their hatred for the empire's bloodthirsty G.o.ds. Cut from huge stone blocks quarried to the east, the walls rose to the height of ten men, and it was said that a person might walk five leagues on those parapets and not come to the end of them.

Villam, too, admired the walls, but he hadn't done speaking." A good harvest, a mild winter, the Jinna bandits beaten back out to sea-all these will pacify the Aostan n.o.bles more than any battle can."

"So we must hope," replied Rosvita, "because if reports are true, the southern counties will not yield easily. Is that the queen come to welcome us?"

Henry looked eager, seeing the crowd of folk gathered at the gate, but he was quickly disappointed.

i "Clerics all," said Villam, surprised enough to show it.

Hathui rode forward to meet the welcoming party halfway. Presbyters in red cloaks and clerics garbed in robes of white sang a hymn of praise in strong voices. Incense rose in clouds from gold thuribles; even at this distance, the heady scent made Rosvita dizzy, or perhaps that was just the scorching heat of the summer sun. She had grown accustomed to wearing a broad-brimmed hat, like those Aostan clerics favored, but it was so hot that even such shade gave trifling respite from the heat. Fortuna-tus had remarked several times that it was so hot that not even flies troubled them.

The Eagle returned, escorting a single man resplendent in rich vestments surmounted by a scarlet cloak trimmed with gems at the collar. The blazing sun was not more golden than his hair. He knelt in the dirt before the king.

"Your Majesty, Her Most Blessed Majesty Queen Adelheid has sent me to receive you into the city and to escort you to her. She awaits you in the Ivory Pavilion."

"I had thought she would greet me herself, at the gates of our city," said Henry in a dangerously low voice." I did not march the breadth of Aosta on her behalf only to be brought before her like a mere prince come to pay my respects."

Hugh wore no hat. Sweat gleamed on his brow, but he looked otherwise cool and collected as he lowered his voice to speak in a voice meant to carry no farther than the king and his closest companions." The queen is well, my lord king, after the rigors of birth, but her physicians still confine her indoors in this heat. She had a pair of fainting spells some ten days after the birth, and they fear the sun might cause another."

Henry had the grace to change color, and his mouth, tightened into a line of annoyance, shifted subtly to mark concern." Escort me to her at once."

They rode into the city to the accompaniment of cheers and garlands, thrown by the populace. Clearly, Adelheid had won their love in the month Henry had been gone. They blessed the Wendish king, foreigner though he was, for freeing them from Ironhead's tyranny.

But Villam leaned toward Rosvita, speaking in a low voice." Do you see how they call for 'Father Hugh'? Look at their faces. The flowers are for the presbyter, not for the king."

Yet Hugh walked humbly enough beside the king, leading Henry's horse as though Hugh were the king's servant. He was, amazingly, barefoot, in the guise of a humble frater-except, of course, for the richness of his clothing.

"Do you think so?" whispered Rosvita. How could she tell, as garlands fell onto the avenue, a ma.s.s of lilies and roses, poppies and narcissus, to make a sweet carpet for the triumphant king? Vil-lam c.o.c.ked an eye, looking skeptical. When had he grown so suspicious?

The northern road struck straight through the city to the heart, where the twin palaces lay. Along the lower southern slope of Amurrine Hill, huge walls almost obscured the hill itself, but to the northwest a rocky escarpment fell away below the high parapets to the river beneath. The road ramped up, b.u.t.tressed by a complicated series of arches, and they dismounted in the forecourt and gave their horses over to grooms'.

In the month they had been gone, all trace of Ironhead, his wh.o.r.es, and his furnishings had been swept out of the palace. Are-thousan carpets ornamented the corridors. Bra.s.s hooks set into the walls supported oil lamps fashioned into the shapes of animals: roosters and eagles, griffins and dragons, a pair of phoenix, and a flock of golden swallows. Every shutter had been taken down, every room and chamber thrown open to the light. A crowd of servants beat dust out of tapestries. A trio of girls polished the bra.s.s fittings on the doors.

The Ivory Pavilion was not the grandest hall in the palace, but the intimacy and richness of its furnishings gave it a grandeur that many a vast hall could not rival. Narrow window slits allowed a breeze to work through the chamber, but otherwise the thick stone walls as well as the shade of cypress trees in the gardens set to either side of the old building allowed the inhabitants some respite from the heat. They entered through a porch screened off by doors so cunningly carved in a pattern of intertwined roundels that those within could look out upon any courtiers who waited beyond, hoping for admittance.

The inner chamber was dim enough to need illumination: six handsome lamps in the shape of leopards with the flame licking out of their snarling mouths. The wainscoting was all of ivory, each plaque detailing a scene: battles, the martyrdom of saints, the journey of Helen and her founding of the ancient city of Dariya, stories depicting the queens and kings of Aosta and the trials of the Holy Mothers of the church side by side with heathen tales of "G.o.ds and magic.

Queen Adelheid reclined at her ease on a couch, in the ancient Dariyan style, eating grapes and drinking wine while she conversed with a woman whose hair was as pale as moonlight. Rosvita would have thought her a simple churchwoman, except for the exceeding richness of her white cleric's robes, ornamented by eagles and glittering circles picked out in red-and-gold thread on silk. A nursemaid dandled a plump baby nearby.

The two women, one young and handsome and the other impossible to put an age to, looked up at the same instant as Henry and his companions entered the chamber. Rosvita saw it at once. Even Hathui caught in her breath with an audible gasp.

Adelheid, of course, wore no gold torque to mark her royal descent. It was a Wendish and Salian custom, one that had never migrated south of the Alfar Mountains. Nor could Aosta boast a true royal lineage. In truth, any of the n.o.ble families of Aosta might claim the throne for themselves, if they were strong enough.

But the mellow gold of a masterfully crafted torque gleamed at the throat of Adelheid's companion. The ends of the braided gold had each been formed into the face of an angel. The woman did not rise as Henry strode forward.

Adelheid did.

"Henry! I pray you, forgive me for not meeting you at the gates. My physicians- He kissed her warmly on either cheek before insisting she sit." Rest, my heart," he said fervently, seeing that she was comfortably settled before he beckoned to the nursemaid." Here is my sweet Mathilda. How fares she?"

The sleeping Mathilda looked healthy, red-cheeked like an apple at first blush, her limbs plump and her downy cap of hair as dark as her mother's.

"She fares well," said Adelheid proudly." She eats well, and grows quickly."

"But not as quickly as your granddaughter," said the cleric seated on the couch next to Adelheid's.

Henry gave the baby back into the nursemaid's arms and examined this woman who had not shown him the least deference. King and cleric studied each other. A difficult winter and spring waiting in Wayland for the pa.s.ses to clear, a grueling journey over the mountains, and a month spent in almost constant motion winning over or, at times, intimidating the Aostan n.o.bles had not wearied Henry as much as his new bride, new child, and new throne had uplifted him. He had more silver in his hair but, like a crown, it enn.o.bled him. A man half his age might well wish for as much vigor as the king possessed. Certainly Adelheid had never complained of his bed, and even now she gazed at him admiringly, seeing what a fine figure he cut in a rich tunic and with his hair still tousled from the day's ride.

But the cleric had vigor also. She wore arrogance with an ease that betrayed high birth and an expectation that others would bow to her authority. And she had stillness. She sat, hands clasped in her lap, and regarded the king with a thoughtful gaze unblemished by strong emotion. If she felt fear, or anger, or joy, no hint of it touched her eyes.

"Who are you, who sits while I stand?" he asked bluntly.

"I pray you, Henry," began Adelheid, reaching for his hand.

At the same moment, Hugh came forward." Your Majesty, if I may be given leave-"

"Nay, Hugh," objected Adelheid, addressing him in a most casual manner." It must be done, and done quickly." She turned to Henry." We have had word from the south. Ironhead's cousin has raised an army to avenge him. Jinna raiders have put to sh.o.r.e in both Navlia and Tratanto. The Arethousan emperor claims the entire province of Aelia, and the Count of Sirriki begs for our aid in fighting off the pirates who have besieged his ports. Six of the northern lords refused my summons to come to court to make their submission. Untimely rain threatens the grape harvest in Idria, and the stores of rye here in Darre have all been taken by rot. Two deacons in Fiora were struck dead by lightning. There are rumors of a heresy taking hold in the northeast. Meanwhile, Mother dementia is dead these three months or more, and the throne of the skopos remains empty."

"Surely the presbyters meet and hold council, as is their tradition," began Rosvita.

"The council of presbyters may argue for months," said Hugh quietly before bowing his head to await events.

Adelheid glanced at Hugh, as if expecting him to go on, but he kept his gaze lowered modestly, fixed on the parquet floor and its two tones of wood, blond and ebony, spreading out from his feet in a pattern of repeating squares. Like good and evil, the warring inclinations stamped into every human soul.

"The presbyters weave their own intrigues that have nothing to do with the security of Aosta," continued Adelheid fervently, taking Henry's hand again." Many of them do not care to act in favor of restoring the empire. Yet those same clerics will not necessarily move against a strong hand setting the emperor in place."

"What are you saying?" asked Henry.

But Rosvita already knew, with that sudden, sure instinct that causes dogs to shy and birds to twitter in the hour before an earthquake hits. She had heard Sanglant's testimony. It did not take any great wisdom to add two to two and count up four." You are Sister Anne, of St. Valeria's Convent."

"Liath's mother!" murmured Hathui, standing just behind the king." I see no resemblance."

Henry was not slow to catch their meaning." Are you the woman who claims to be the granddaughter of Emperor Taillefer?"

Anne did not rise. She lifted a single hand, like a queen calling for silence." What need have I to claim such a thing when it is truth? Why else would I wear the gold torque of royal kinship?"

This argument stymied Henry, but Villam could not remain silent." Any woman or man might put a gold torque around their throat and say what they will. In the marchlands, imposters sometimes ride into villages and claim to be clerics, or lords, or heathen sorcerers with the power to make birds talk and the rivers run with gold. What proof have you?"

Anne was neither amused nor angry. Her calm ran as deep as the ocean." What proof do you desire? Is it not obvious?" She whistled, an unexpected sound coming from that ageless, composed face. A huge black hound trotted into view, emerging from behind a carved wood screen. Servants shied away, but it approached meekly enough and lay down submissively at Anne's feet.

"That looks like one of Lavastine's hounds," said Henry, examining the hound with the keen interest of a man who keeps a large kennel and knows the names of all his dogs." I thought they were all dead."

"I do not know where the beast came from," said Anne, "only that it did come to me one day to offer its obeisance. I believe this hound is descended from the black hounds who were loyal to Taillefer. They are spoken of in poems, and I have seen them depicted in tapestries."

"There is one carved in stone in Taillefer's chapel at Autun, faithful in life as in death," said Rosvita, and while it was true that one might mark a resemblance, too much time had pa.s.sed between the reign of Taillefer and this day to know whether this fearsome creature was itself the descendant, many dog generations on, of the emperor's famous hounds.

"Nay, Your Majesty." Villam crouched to get a better look, although he did not venture too close." This is indeed one of Lavastine's hunting hounds. I recognize the look of it. The ears. The size. The breadth of its chest. It might as well have swallowed a barrel. I respected those hounds too well to forget them now."

"What do you want?" asked Henry.

"To serve G.o.d," said Anne." That is all."

"If queen and king agree, then there can be no impediment to Sister Anne's crowning as skopos," said Adelheid.

Anne did not smile." If I am skopos, then I cannot contend with you for the imperial throne that is rightly mine."

Henry smiled sharply. He eased his hand out of Adelheid's grip and gestured to his servants. Two stewards had already hurried in, and they hastily set up his traveling throne, with the dragon arms, the eagle-wing back, and the lion legs and paws to support it. Sitting, he set chin on fist and elbow on knee, regarding Anne more with curiosity than with animosity." With what army do you mean to contend for the imperial throne?"

"G.o.d's favor and the right of birth ought to be army enough. So have you put forth your own claim, I believe."

He glanced at Hathui, who fingered her Eagle's brooch selfconsciously, her expression fixed like stone. What was the Eagle thinking? What did Henry mean to do?

Like a good commander, he attempted a flank attack." Is it true the woman named Liathano is your daughter? Do you know what became of her?"

"No more than I know what became of your b.a.s.t.a.r.d, Sanglant."

"Who does not trust you and spoke most d.a.m.ningly of your powers and your intent. You are a sorcerer, I believe, a mathe-maticus. There was talk of a cataclysm soon to engulf us. The return of the Lost Ones. A war, perhaps, or some other disaster."

"I pray you, King Henry, do not mock what you do not understand." As they had spoken, it had grown dark and the chamber dim. Wind rustled through the cypresses outside. Adelheid's banner, hung from the wall behind the couches, stirred, the cloth sighing up and settling down as though an invisible daimone's hand toyed with it. No one had lit lamps; even the servants watched in antic.i.p.atory silence as king faced cleric.

Even the servants understood that something monumental was at stake. Servants could smell the heady brew of a silent struggle for power sooner than anyone else.

"Very well," agreed Henry softly." It's true I understand practical matters better than sorcerous ones. I know that a woman may not rule as queen regnant in Salia. But if you are indeed Taillefer's granddaughter, then you might well gain adherents enough to drag Aosta into a long struggle over the crowns, which none of us desire. Your aspiration seems reasonable enough, Sister Anne, but of what use can you be to me if I support your election as Holy Mother, skopos over all the church?"

Anne lifted cupped hands. A silvery sphere of light spun into being just above her palms. Villam muttered a prayer under his breath. Adelheid sighed sharply, like a woman in the throes of pleasure. Henry remained silent, watching.

Anne raised her arms and, as a woman tosses rose petals to the wind, flung up her hands. The silvery globe dissolved into sparks of shimmering white light, each one a b.u.t.terfly swooping and fluttering throughout the chamber. The winged light threw the scenes carved onto ivory into relief: a lady with her falcon; the entombment of St. Asella; fair Helen on the walls of Ilios, calling the CHILD or FLAME troops to battle; the tortures of St. John of Hamby, each one depicted in exquisite detail.

Anne stood. Each white b.u.t.terfly spark bloomed with color- ruby, sapphire, emerald, carnelian, aquamarine, amethyst and rose quartz, banded chalcedony, iridescent opal-each one as l.u.s.trous as a gem. Their dance swirled around the chamber, making Rosvita's head ache at the same time as her heart exulted. Henry rose slowly, staring as b.u.t.terflies swarmed around his head to form a crown of luminescent stars at his brow.

For an instant he gleamed there, crowned in splendor.

The sparks vanished, leaving them with a steady gleam of magelight and a cool, pale woman of vast power and middling height. Whispering, half frightened and half in awe, the servants hurried to light lamps as the magelight spun itself into delicate threads and, at last, into nothing, simply fading until it disappeared.

"Illusion," muttered Villam.

Hugh of Austra's gaze glittered just as brightly as had those dancing sparks. In his expression gleamed an unsettling hunger.

Queen Adelheid looked no different than he did, dazzled, thirsty for more.

Even Henry. G.o.d save them, even Henry.

"What do you want?" Henry asked again, his voice as hoa.r.s.e as that of a famished man who has just seen a feast laid out on the table.

Villam's hand brushed Rosvita's fingers, a signal she could not read. Nor could she speak to ask him, not even whisper, not with the silence lying so deeply around them, a cloak thrown over the a.s.sembly.

Can we trust her?

Rosvita no longer doubted Anne's right to wear the gold torque. Granddaughter of Taillefer and Radegundis, daughter of Fidelis and the foundling girl Lavrentia; a mathematicus of considerable power. One could not ignore such a woman.

Anne bent to pick up a shard of gla.s.s, as blue as lapis lazuli, off the parquet floor. She displayed it in her palm, blew on it gently, and a brilliantly blue b.u.t.terfly opened its wings and flew away, quickly lost in darkness. She did not smile as she addressed the king. A woman with so much power does not need to smile, or to frown.

"Do not turn away from me, Henry, Lord of Wendar and Varre," she said, untroubled by the agitated currents roiling around her." For without my aid, you will have no empire to rule."

EVERY soul tainted by the touch of mortal earth is peppered with shadows and black recesses, caught where they are least expected: hates, loves, fears, pa.s.sions, envies and angers, lies and truths. Every soul born on Earth can never be free of them. No matter how fiercely the cleansing fire rages, she will never be pure fire.

She will always be trapped in her body.

She hit the ground running, half crouched, bow ready. Here in the sphere of Jedu, a light snow fell. She loped over a plain marked by hundreds of small outcrops, tumbled boulders, heaps of stone, irregular folds, every lump and swell concealed under a blanket of snow. Cold flakes dissolved on her lips, swirling around her naked body. The only place she was warm was along her spine where her quiver gave her skin some protection from wind and falling snow. Her toes had already gone numb from the cold; each step was agony, like walking on needles. It was a bad place not to have any clothes.

It was a bad place to be trapped in a physical body. Looking back, she saw no gate, no entry point, only her footprints, steaming as the brief warmth of her pa.s.sing was whirled away into the bitter air. She could only go forward. That was always the case, wasn't it? She could never go back.

She brushed snow from her hair, felt it tickle her eyelashes and dust the end of her nose. Flakes melted on her nipples and strung a mantle across her shoulders, rubbed clean at intervals by the leather strap of her quiver. Her ears stung. Despite the stiffness in So CHILD or FLAME her fingers, she kept her bow raised and an arrow taut. In Jedu's angry lair, anything might happen. She had to expect the worst.

It didn't take long for the worst to find her.

Thunder rolled and tumbled in the distance. Lightning flashed, sparks of brilliance on the horizon. She paused, seeing no storm clouds, only the steady gray bowl of a fathomless sky.

Not a storm at all. At first the figure looked impossibly small. In the time it took Liath to take in two sharp breaths, the creature doubled in size as the thunder of its footsteps rang in the air. As she caught in a gasp, it filled her sight, a monstrous giant.